Willow & Xander
by The Itch
Summary: A Xander might not be able to get through to Willow, but the Jack he had been, might. An alternate end of season six's "Grave"


Mmm, just an idea that hit and wouldn't go away...

Timeline: BtVS season six, "Grave". Stargate SG:1 post season seven, "Fragile Balance"

* * *

"You can't stop this."

"Yeah, I get that," I shrug a shoulder, wincing. Willow's magic has really done a number on me; what was I thinking, stepping into it? Oh wait, that's right, I wasn't. I'm in this to save my Wills. "It's just... where else am I gonna go? You've been my best friend my whole life. World gonna end... where else would I want to be?"

"Is this the master plan?" my currently black-haired friend sneers, "You're going to stop me by telling me that you love me?"

"Well," I give her my best wry grin, "I was going to walk you off of a cliff and hand you and anvil, but... it seemed kinda cartoony."

"Still making jokes," she snorts.

"I'm not joking," I'm using _his_ tone of voice, not mine. But how else am I supposed to get across the point that I'm being serious for once? "I know you're in pain, Wills. I can't imagine what you're going through- similar, but not the same. And I know that you're about to do something apocalypitcally evil and stupid, and hey," I spread my arms wide, and smile wryly, "I still want to hang. You're my Willow."

"Don't call me that!" she's seething, and when her eyes flash, it takes everything in me not to jump. That was just... disturbing.

"First day of kindergarten. You..." no, that wouldn't work, would it? That history we cooked up together, just the two of us, when Willow had confronted me over certain... things she had discovered. Like the fact that I didn't actually exist; no birth records or any thing. That was six months before Buffy came to Sunnydale. Five months after I had come to this godforsaken town. I close my eyes, taking a deep breath. I can do this. I've faced down gods before, haven't I?

Well, technically, it hadn't been me, but I have the memories, so that had to count for something, right?

"You remember how we met, Wills? How I got dumped off with the Harris family and you cared enough to get me out of there? You didn't have to do that, but you cared enough about a perfect stranger to get them out of the home of those two drunks... and I loved you for that. I still loved you when you cracked government records to find out about me, because what I told you didn't match up with what you saw in me. I loved you even when we spent the summer before Buffy came on the run from the NID. You remember that, right? Dodging the suits because you hadn't been quite as careful with your cracking as you thought you had?" I offer her a tired smile, "I haven't stopped loving you since. Shy cracker, or... scary veiny Willow, you're still _my_ Willow. My best friend. So if I'm going out, it's here. If you wanna kill the world? Well then, start with me. I've earned that."

Earned that and more, I think.

"You think that I won't?" she was practically seething, but I could see it in her. See that little piece of her that was breaking. I'm getting through to her; this might be harder than, say, convincing the First Prime of Apophis to abandon his post, but not that much harder.

I hope.

"It doesn't matter. I'll still love you," certainly not as a man loves a woman, or even a brother loves a sister. In my eyes, Willow would always be like the daughter I never had the chance to have.

"Shut up," she growls at me, waving a hand. Power fills the air around her, but nothing visible to human eyes. I didn't even realize it had been directed at me until it hit me, and my head snapped around. Slowly, I reach up to touch my cheek, and the three parallel cuts, hissing slightly. The blood on the tips of my fingers fascinates me.

Is it really my blood? Sometimes I had to wonder...

Drawing in a breath, I look back up at my friend, "I love you."

Another gesture, and pain ripples through my chest. That's going to hurt in the morning; a whole lot more than I'd ever let on. Grimacing, I look back up at her, "I... love y-"

"SHUT UP!" Willow shrieks, throwing a bolt of pure mana at me, and I stagger backwards. She holds out a crackling hand in warning, but I ignore it. There's surprise in her face, but I don't know why. Is it because I'm not dead? Is it because she's been wasting her power on me, instead of her little ritual?

"I love you, Willow," I'm taking slow, shambling steps forwards, but it's enough to get her to start freaking out.

"STOP!" she sounds so panicked as she throws more energy at me... but it's nothing compared to her previous blasts. Barely a scratch.

I keep walking forwards. It's all I can think of to do; Willow's grief and rage are eating her from the inside out, and I need to keep her safe. She's crying as she tries to attack me with magic, but it won't come. She's used it all up.

"I love you."

"Stop..." her voice isn't anywhere as strong as it had been earlier. I'm close enough to hug her now, but I don't touch her. I don't know how she'll react; right now, though, she's hitting me. It's not hard, as she was never very physically strong, and her dependence on magic has only made her weaker as time went on.

Then she's crying, and I'm not exactly sure what to do. Both of us are on our knees before I know it, and she's in my arms, sobbing hysterically.

I sigh, "I love you, Willow. No matter what, I'll always love you."

As her hair turns back to it's normal red color, I smile tiredly at her.

Jack, you really get yourself into some strange messes, don't you?

* * *

In case you couldn't guess, Xander is Mini-Jack.

There's no timeline fudging to get Mini-Jack into the past to play Donut-Guy for the Scooby Gang; just The Powers that Be playing with time: they literally sent Mini-Jack into the past, once he'd agreed to work for them. Hey, if the Stargate can be used to travel to the past, why can't the Powers do it?

If anyone wants to see more of this timeline, drop me a line, and I'll see what I can do. For now, though, I'm leaving this as-is, so that it'll stop bothering me.

Might pick it up again, even if no one wants me to, if an idea strikes me.


End file.
